


Subtlety, thy name is not Arya Stark

by ChocolateFrogs98



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Gendry and Jon are the bromance that was promised, Jon Snow Knows Nothing, a bit crack-ish, more characters will be added as they appear - Freeform, robbed, we were robbed in season 8
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-01 23:11:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20540081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateFrogs98/pseuds/ChocolateFrogs98
Summary: Or the many ways in which Jon (and other people) could have found out about Gendry and Arya.





	1. Is it an introduction if they already knew each other?

**Author's Note:**

> Because they had SO MANY opportunities to show Gendry and Arya's relationship but they kept it secret. And we were robbed of everybody's reaction. So Imma fix that.
> 
> Also this will probably turn way more ridiculous and crack-ish at the chapters go by. They won't be in chronological order, I believe.
> 
> Enjoy!

It took all of his self-control to keep riding calmly next to his Queen. All he wanted to do was to ride full tilt to Winterfell and its courtyard.

_Bran and Arya are home_, Sansa had said in the letter.

He had thought Arya dead, everybody did. But she was alive and instead of going home to her Jon had to keep staying in Dragonstone, then travel north of the Wall and then to King’s Landing. All the while his little sister was home and he wasn’t.

Daenery’s smile was one of understanding. Even if, from what she’d told him, her relationship with her own brother hadn’t been the best, Jon had told her enough about his siblings that his Queen understood his longing to see them again.

“Winterfell it’s beautiful,” she told him. He knew she was trying to get his mind off, distract him a bit.

“You should have seen it years ago.” Before the Greyjoys, he thought, before the Boltons.

Winterfell had stood through too many lords in the past years.

He managed to make it through the gates but his composure vanished as he rode into the courtyard. The Lords and Ladies were there.

And Bran.

_Gods, Bran_.

He had grown so much. The last time he had seen him Bran was a child laying on his bed, none of them sure if he would ever wake again. And there he was, staring unblinkingly up at him. He looked grown and tired, but the hints of the boy Jon knew still shone through.

One thing was hearing his little brother was alive. Another was to see it with his own two eyes.

Overwhelmed with relief and happiness and incredulity he rushed to Bran’s side and kissed his forehead.

He was there, he really was there.

“Look at you,” he told him, his voice thick. “You’re a man.”

“Almost,” said Bran flatly. He sounded empty, devoid of any feeling, any emotion, any life. The opposite of the Bran he knew.

He caught Sansa’s gaze. She looked sad, he thought, but still opened her arms for a hug with a tiny smile.

“Where’s Arya?” he asked.

Her eyes tore away from behind him, he knew she was staring down at the Queen, and flickered to the right.

There, hiding by the shadows of the wall was a small figure. His heart brightened with hope.

She hadn’t changed much. Her face had lost most of the roundness of childhood but it was still hers, still Arya’s. She wore her hair tied up in the back, not unlike him, like their father’s.

She was looking at him soft, aching. He could bet the same expression was written on his face.

“You used to be taller,” she told him.

“You’re not much taller yourself,” he said.

A smile broke through and then she was running towards him. Or maybe he was running towards her. She jumped into his arms and for that one second everything was alright in his world.

He would not cry. _He would not cry_.

She smiled at him when he released her and Jon wanted to hug her again and ask her about Needle and where had she been but he had a whole army waiting. Arya would have to wait.

The Night King was coming. The Night King was coming and he had Viserion and Sansa hated Daenerys and all the Northern Lords hated Daenerys and they all resented him for bending the knee. Even if that would save all of their lives in the end.

“Well, that was an interesting meeting,” Davos told him wryly as they left the Great Hall.

Jon grumbled.

“Sansa doesn’t like your queen, does she?”

Arya joined him in their walk, her hands clasped in the back. He hadn’t heard her coming.

“Sansa thinks she’s smarter than everyone,” Jon told her confidentially.

But instead of huffing and agreeing with him, like she always did when they were children, she stared hard at him. “She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met,” she said seriously.

Jon faltered. He glanced at Davos, still walking by his side but a few paces ahead and resolutely looking to the side to give them some sense of privacy.

“Ser Davos!” he called. “I’d like you to meet my sister Arya.” He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Arya, this is Ser Davos Seaworth,” he said. “He’s my closest advisor and a great friend.”

She smiled. “Sansa has told me about you,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too, my lady.” Her nose wrinkled a bit at the title and it brought a smile to Jon’s lips. “Your brother wouldn’t stop talking about you. It became very annoying.”

The siblings exchanged a look and a smile.

“What sorts of trouble did he get into?” she asked.

They made it to the courtyard, Davos telling her about their trip to Dragonstone and the introduction to Queen Daenerys. The wagons of dragonglass had taken over the yard and Jon spotted Gendry helping unload one of them.

“I’ll be right back,” he said but they paid him no mind, Davos gleefully reciting all the titles Missandei had sprouted off that day.

“And so I said: ‘This is Jon Snow. He’s King in the North.’”

“Seems like you’ve made yourself useful.”

Gendry looked up at his voice, spotted him and smiled. “I couldn’t sit around chatting while the dead come closer.”

Jon smiled at the rebuke. “I wish I didn’t have to sit around and chat,” he said. “Has somebody showed you the forge?”

“You mean where I’ll probably spend the rest of my life?”

Jon scoffed. “Let’s hope not.”

Gendry jumped out the cart. “Figured it wouldn’t be hard to find,” he said. “How many smiths have we got?”

“With you? Two. But I figured we could spare some more men to help you out.”

Gendry’s face told him that he’d better find him more men because he wasn’t going to arm a whole army on his own.

Jon glanced back at Davos and his sister, who it seemed were easily getting along. Beside him, Gendry’s breath caught.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll introduce you.”

Arya looked at him when she heard him approach, an eyebrow quirked. “Seems you can’t even die right.”

He didn’t deign that with an answer.

“Here’s someone I’d like you to meet,” he said instead, clapping Gendry’s back. “This is Gendry Waters,” he said. “A friend of mine.”

Arya looked a bit taken aback. Jon felt offended. He might not have been as social as she was, but he was able to have more than one friend.

Then Gendry bowed dramatically at his side. “Lady Stark.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“As you wish, M’lady.” He had a cocky smirk on his face.

Jon exchanged an alarmed look with Davos. Gendry had always been reckless, never hesitating to join Jon on an expedition north of the Wall or telling him his true identity when advised against, but this was a bit too much. He grimaced at his friend’s misstep and waited for Arya to hit him.

Instead, her cool, calm, collected façade broke and an honest smile curved her lips. She looked downwards with a giggle.

_A giggle_.

“You got it back, then?” he nodded at Needle on her waist. “And what’s that?”

Arya grabbed the dagger she had strapped to her side and handed it to him, hilt first. They seemed to have forgotten Jon and Davos’ existence entirely.

“It’s Valyrian steel,” he said surprised. “I always knew you were just another rich girl.” His voice had a teasing tilt.

Arya smirked and took back her dagger, sheathing it with one swift move. “You don’t know any other rich girls,” she teased right back. Then she _strutted_ back to the castle, spinning to get one last look at Gendry (always at Gendry, her eyes never leaving the blacksmith’s) and a smirk, before turning back around again without breaking stride.

Jon and Davos both gaped at Gendry. He had a stupid smile on his face and was watching the door through which Arya had gotten back in.

“What the hell was that?”

Gendry tore his eyes away, his ears turning red as he realized they were still standing there.

“Didn’t I tell you your sister and I used to be friends?”

Jon glared at him. Weeks he had known the smith and there hadn’t been any mention of Arya on his part. On their first meeting he had sprouted how he had known his father _once_, but nothing on Arya.

And they had been good friends at it seemed. Still were.

“No,” he hissed. “You forgot to mention that.”

“Ah!” Gendry rubbed the back of his neck. “My bad.”


	2. Arya doesn't know what a tree is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Arya is not antisocial and goes to the feast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE THE RECEPTION THIS GOT. OMG YOU GUYS. YOU GUYS ARE FUCKING AMAZING.
> 
> Thank you, really. Thank you a lot. Still trying to process it.
> 
> Enjoy!

Jon was still trying to wrap his mind around it. Everything had gone so fast but yet so slow. The battle had seemed to drag on and on, really a Long Night. A never ending night. But at the same time the hours had rushed past him as he fought and flew and fought some more until suddenly it was over.

The smell of burning flesh still lingered in the castle and Jon wondered if it had seeped so thoroughly in the stones that Winterfell would never smell of anything else ever again.

Beside him, Arya took a long swing of her tankard of ale. It rubbed at him wrong, seeing his little sister drinking like a man.

_She’s too young to be drinking like that_, he thought.

_She killed the Night King_, he told himself. _She can do whatever she wants_.

It hit him once again. Arya had killed the Night King. Little Arya. Arya Underfoot.

He didn’t want to think about that.

Daenerys looked… empty at his other side. He couldn’t blame her. He’d seen Ser Jorah’s Mormont’s body among the dead. Jon knew the man felt a deep love for his Queen and that she loved him back, just maybe not in the way he desired.

She was looking at the men but her eyes were glazed over and it told him she wasn’t really looking at them. She hadn’t touched her food and her cup was still full.

They hadn’t talked since the beginning of the battle.

“Hey.” He touched her arm, a simple press of his fingers to bring her back to him. “Are you alright?”

Daenerys looked back at him, her eyes wide and so full of emotions Jon felt he could choke on them. No, she wasn’t alright.

He could never repay what she’d done for them. She had saved them all just like Arya had. Jon opened his mouth to say something, anything, to try and make it better.

A man stood up. The hall had been filled since that moment of quiet chatter and people eating. When the man, a simple soldier from what Jon could see, stood up they all fell silent.

“To Arya Stark,” the man brought up his cup. “The Bringer of Dawn.”

The crowd roared, slammed their cups against the table and made as much noise as they could. ‘Arya Stark’ ‘Nightslayer’ and ‘The Bringer of Dawn’ could be heard here and there.

Arya seemed to hide on herself.

“I _told_ you I didn’t want to come,” she hissed at Sansa.

“People need to see you,” said Sansa. “You’re their saviour. And I think you need to see them, too.”

“I didn’t want to be their saviour,” Arya muttered. There was a handprint in her neck and Jon knew, _he knew_, that it came from the Night King. The thought of that creature with his hand around his sister’s neck set his blood boiling but at the same time turned it to ice.

The feast livened. Soon mead was flowing freely and everybody seemed to celebrate they were alive. Someone found a woodharp and some more instruments and music filled the hall among the conversations. The quiet chatter turned into loud talking and Jon felt like he could relax.

He let a smile take over his face as he made himself more comfortable on his chair.

“To the Bringer of Dawn!” shouted one man.

“The Bringer of Dawn!” echoed the others.

Arya scowled something fierce. “Alright, that’s it,” she huffed. “I’ve endured this long enough.”

Arya stood up. Since her leather outfit was a mess of blood and dead men’s bits, Sansa had forced her into a grey doublet and skirt. It looked, in Jon’s opinion, a lot like a dress. Arya hadn’t complained as much as Jon thought she would, it seemed the not-dressed was indeed _hers_, and that had been another sign that his little sister had changed irrevocably.

Arya didn’t make it more than two steps. Gendry Waters emerged from the crowd with a determined expression on his face. It vanished, though, at the sight of Arya.

Jon memorized that expression so he could tease him over and over afterwards about the time he froze at the sight of a highborn girl.

“Gendry,” Jon smiled warmly. “I’m glad you’re alive.” He hadn’t been able to talk to the man in the middle of all the aftermath of the battle but he’d been greatly relieved when he’d seen him standing among the living while they burned the dead.

“I’m glad I’m alive, too,” Gendy told him cheekily. “And I guess I’m glad you’re not dead either,” he said after a moment of false consideration. “I had just gotten used to you.”

Arya, Sansa and Daenerys were looking at the blacksmith as if he had lost his mind. Jon knew they were probably surprised at the sight of a lowborn bastard talking so freely at him. But Jon knew Gendry wasn’t just a bastard, even if he wasn’t going to share that with Daenerys or his sisters because he didn’t want to get him killed.

He had grown fond of the man.

“I’m glad it’s over, though,” said Gendry. “Mayhaps I can get a full night of sleep now.”

Arya snorted.

Jon wanted to scold her. Gendry had worked hard to arm them all for the war against the Night King and it was not a laughing matter. They owed Gendry their lives as much as they did Daenerys and her armies and dragons and Arya herself.

Gendry’s ears turned red and Jon decided to save him from more embarrassment. “Gendry, meet Queen Daenerys, my sisters Lady Sansa and Lady Arya and my brother Bran.”

“Your Grace,” Gendry bowed his head respectfully at Daenerys. “My lady, my lord,” he acknowledged in Sansa and Bran’s direction. “M’lady,” he told Arya then and his gaze took in her attire. “You look different now.”

Arya’s eyes widened and Jon would have thought she was about to chew him out for daring to comment on her appearance hadn’t it been for the vulnerability in her eyes. He hadn’t even thought this new Arya _knew_ how to be vulnerable.

She looked down at her hands and then back at Gendry again. The furrow of her brow was determined and Jon wondered if that was what she looked like when she killed the Night King.

“I look like an oak tree,” she said slowly.

Jon worried that the blow to her head had been more severe than they’d though. Arya looked nothing like a tree. Her dress was a bluish grey and with a trimming that looked like it was knotted together. There was nothing that could remind of leaves or branches or acorns or anything remotely resembling a tree or anything vegetal. It was the furthest thing from a tree that could ever exist.

Still, Gendry’s eyes softened, his whole face looking tender.

“Nice, though,” he said, his voice scratchy. “A nice oak tree.”

Jon looked at Sansa and then at Daenerys to see if maybe he was missing something. Perhaps because he was a man and there was something that escaped him.

They both looked as confused as he felt and that was a relief but at the same time it wasn’t.

Bran’s lips were twitching. Was that a _smile_?

_What the fuck?_

Arya and Gendry still hadn’t taken their eyes off each other. It was starting to make him uncomfortable. He cleared his throat.

As if he had broken a spell they both blinked. A soft pink tinted Arya’s cheeks.

His sister was _blushing_.

“I wanted to thank you,” Gendry told Arya. More like he stammered it. “For saving us all.”

Arya scowled. “I don’t want your thanks.”

Her anger just made him smile. “I know,” he said happily. “But you saved us, even if you weren’t doing it for us, and you deserve some credit.”

Arya stepped forward, invading Gendry’s personal space. She had to tilt her face up to look at him and he glanced down. Their chests were almost touching.

It was like watching a battle. Jon didn’t want to watch but at the same time he couldn’t keep his eyes away.

“Are you going to reward me?” Arya asked slowly, her voice low and full of something Jon never again wanted to associate with his little sister.

Gendry leaned in even closer. “Your wish is my command, M’lady.”

Arya’s eyes flared but not with anger. She grabbed the blacksmith’s hand and tugged him away. They were gone before Jon had time to react.

He didn’t think he liked Gendry quite so much now.

“What the _fuck_ was that?”

It was the first time Jon had ever heard Sansa curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to fix a bit the whole Jon and Dany scene because it pained me in the show. Can't fix it much with all the mess D&D made, though.
> 
> Confused Jon and Jon knowing nothing give me life, I swear.
> 
> I almost had them dancing "No Featherbed For Me" but it didn't quite fit. Another chapter then, I guess. Also, I have a headcanon that Gendry calls all higborn ladies the proper My Lady and it's just Arya and Arya alone that he calls M'lady.
> 
> Hope you liked it.


End file.
